She caught me noticing. "Nothing for you to worry about."
Maeve scoffed. She wasn't buying it, but she also didn't care. She was busy constructing what looked like a cinnamon-roll army, lined up in twos and fours, ready for the pan.
I spotted a perfect opening. "Speaking of family," I said, sorting coffee mugs, "any word from Damon or Evan? I thought they'd at least text to come home for the holidays."
Mom's smile twitched, just a hair. "They're both out of state. Busy season, apparently. But we're planning a full Meyer gathering at the end of January, after all the travel settles."
That was nonsense, but I let it slide. Damon hadn't left Tennessee in months; Evan came and went like a storm but hadn't missed Christmas since 2012. The truth was, my brothers lived in this weird orbit. Sometimes they showed, sometimes not. If Mom said they couldn't make it, there was a story behind it, and I was smart enough not to ask with an audience.
The twins didn't care. They focused on the moment.
"Can we do a berry pie filling?" Fifi begged.
I raised a brow at Maeve. "You're the general."
She grinned. "Of course." She elbowed Fifi conspiratorially. "But you need to get these rolls into the pan first. Otherwise, Chance sneaks them raw, and then he'll blame the dog."
Behind me, Tash came in through the kitchen door.
For a second, the kitchen, hell, the whole house, tilted on its axis. I shifted position so I could see her.
She looked like she belonged, but the war in her head was obvious. Pride glowed to every smile, but worry shadowed the edges.
Caden hummed, quiet but persistent.Ours. Fix it. Feed her.
I drifted in her direction. "Are you surviving the tornado?"
She laughed, pink in the cheeks. "I've never seen them this happy. Or this sticky."
From the island, Mere piped up, "We're making magic, Mom, you can't rush it!"
Even my mother smiled at that, no snark in it this time.
I dropped it another notch. "Any chance I could steal you for dinner tonight? Something real. Tablecloths, maybe even a candle."
Tash's blush darkened, blooming up her neck. "Me?" She blinked. "Just, uh, dinner? With you?"
I nodded. "Just us. Unless you want to bring the dog. He seems to run the security detail for the house."
Tash laughed, the blush falling away for half a heartbeat. "You're on. But what about the girls?"
I risked it. "My mother would love to hang out with them."
Tash turned to the girls, brow raised. "You don't need babysitters at your age, but with everything that's gone on…"
But Fifi and Mere didn't hesitate. "Grandma can stay with us," Fifi shot out, then instantly faked nonchalance. "I mean, if she wants."
"Yeah," Mere agreed, quieter. "I'd like that."
Mom looked as shocked as I felt. She checked her phone again, but this time she didn't even try to hide it. She just smiled and declared, "It would be my genuine pleasure."
Huey, ever the showman, picked this moment to jump and steal a chunk of unbaked dough from the counter and sprint for the hallway. Pure chaos ensued. Maeve chased him with a dishtowel, Fifi dove for the dog, Mere moved the pans, and Mom ducked out with the grace of someone who'd seen many disasters in her time.
Within seconds, the cinnamon rolls were safe, the dough crisis contained, and the twins collapsed into chairs, breathless.
I grinned at Tash. "I'm impressed. You make it look easy."
She relaxed, just a little, a shy smile blooming.
